


In a Moment Close to Now

by celeste9



Category: Primeval
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Coping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, First Time, Flashbacks, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 11:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1817260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lester and Connor come together, and then everything falls apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a Moment Close to Now

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a bit different structurally, as it contains flashbacks interwoven with the present events. Essentially Lester/Connor, with a tiny bit of Lester/Becker. Fic spoiler: As a warning, technically speaking Lester is unfaithful to Connor during the year he and Abby are lost in the Cretaceous, but for what it's worth, I have a bit of an infidelity squick and yet wrote this.
> 
> Thanks to fififolle for the beta. Title from Neko Case. For my Primeval Denial bingo card, 'the early hours before dawn'.

“Captain Becker on line one, sir,” came Lorraine’s voice.

James pressed the appropriate button on the telephone immediately. “Lester.”

“We’ve got a big fucking problem on our hands, sir.”

“I’m going to need you to elaborate.”

“They didn’t come back.”

There was a plummeting feeling in James’ chest. He began to feel ill and was glad he’d skipped lunch. “You mean--”

“I mean Danny, Connor, and Abby didn’t return through the anomaly. But Sarah has an idea and I want to go through and find them.”

“I can’t condone a mission on so little, Captain. You need to tell me everything you know.”

Everything turned out to be very little indeed. Still, James gave Becker the go ahead. He couldn’t see what other options they had, beyond leaving the others on their own. Clearly that wasn’t an option that bore thinking about.

“I’ll expect to hear from you as soon as you return,” James said. _Be safe,_ he didn’t say, because that would have been sentimental and James was never sentimental.

“Sir,” Becker said, and hung up.

James sat in his office, feeling useless, and didn’t even try to pretend to work. After a few minutes, Lorraine brought him tea. She sat with him while he waited for news and it meant more than he cared to admit.

When the call finally came, it was nothing good. James tried not to be disappointed.

“I’ll take another team through, try again,” Becker said.

“We’ll discuss it later,” James told him. He felt a shudder go through him as he set the phone back into the cradle, his fingers trailing off it.

“They’ll be all right, sir,” Lorraine said, her voice calm and firm.

James wished he could feel as certain.

-

Before Becker exited James’ office that evening, after a full debrief, he stood at perfect military attention in front of the desk and said, “I’ll bring him home for you, sir.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I know you don’t, but I’m going to bring him home for you.” He turned smartly and left.

James pinched the bridge of his nose and wondered when he had become so transparent.

- __

_“Fancy,” Connor said, stepping into James’ living room and ogling the décor._

_“Shoes off.”_

_Connor obliged, after setting down the box containing the diictodons. With a quick glance to James, he let them out so they could roam the flat._

_James eyed them. “We’re going to need some ground rules if this is to be successful.”_

_“What, you mean something like, no telly after eleven?” Connor was grinning._

_James thanked the lord that not even his children were this annoying. “Your pets are not allowed to run about without supervision, and under no circumstances are they allowed anywhere near my bedroom. On second thoughts, neither are you.”_

_One of the diictodons started pawing at James’ sofa. Connor noticed and went over to pull the thing away, looking slightly guilty._

_“Any damage they cause will come out of your paycheque.”_

_Connor nodded. “I suppose that’s only reasonable.”_

_“I appreciate calm and quiet because goodness knows I don’t get enough of it during the workday. However, I realise that asking you to be seen and not heard may be asking too much. What I do ask is that you attempt to keep your noise output to a minimum.”_

_“Quiet as a mouse, that’s me. You won’t even notice I’m here.”_

_“I doubt that, but perhaps you will surprise me.” James started to lead Connor through the flat. “This is my study. If it isn’t in use and you feel it may be helpful in assisting you to confine your noise, do make use of it.”_

_Next was James’ bedroom. Connor attempted to lean around him to peer curiously inside, but James merely closed the door and moved on. “This is where the boys sleep when they’re visiting. I trust it will prove adequate for you.”_

_“Right, your kids. Maybe I’ll meet them?”_

_Connor was looking hopeful but James frankly found the idea appalling. “This is the bathroom. You will rinse the shower out after every use. I won’t have soap scum building up on your account. You’ll find cleaning supplies underneath the sink which may prove helpful.”_

_“Cleaning supplies,” Connor said, eyeing the cabinet below the sink dismally. “Great.”_

_“Yes, well, that concludes our tour,” James said, moving around Connor to leave the room._

_“That’s it? That’s not so bad.”_

_“I expect more will come to me.” Hopefully in time to prevent any catastrophes._

_Connor continued to follow James down the hall, back through the living room, and all the way into the kitchen._

_Finally James said, “Is there something I may assist you with, Mr Temple?”_

_“Just wondering what there is to eat around here,” Connor said, that hopeful expression lighting up his features again._

_James sighed and opened the refrigerator. “I hope you like salmon, because that’s what you’ll be having.”_

-

When James arrived at his flat that night, he was greeted by the pattering of tiny feet across the hardwood floors. “No need to get excited,” he told the diictodons, and then felt disgusted with himself for addressing them. “Your master won’t be returning home tonight.”

The little monsters stared at him with large eyes that somehow looked like Connor’s. They bumped their heads against his shins before turning away, rolling over each other in a tussle.

James wasn’t hungry, but he heated some leftovers anyway and forced himself to eat. It tasted like ash in his mouth. He showered quickly and changed into his pyjamas.

The bed seemed cold and unwelcoming. James left his bedroom.

Instead, he got out some spare linen from the closet and an extra pillow and made his way over to the sofa.

When he awoke the next morning, he decided the ache in his back was entirely worth not having to face the empty side of the bed.

- __

_“Perhaps the kitchen needs to be on the list of rooms you aren’t allowed near,” James said, looking from the surface to the stovetop to the sink. He hadn’t even realised it was possible to drip so much, or to use so many different pots and bowls and utensils. One would think Connor had been cooking for an army._

_“Abby used to threaten that, too,” Connor admitted. “Of course, she can’t cook, either. We ate takeaway a lot.”_

_“A wise decision, I expect.”_

_“Are you mad?”_

_“Messes can be cleaned,” James said, and began to do just that. He started with the dishes already in the sink._

_“Yeah, but…” Connor was now hovering behind James’ shoulder. “You’re mad, aren’t you?”_

_“A little, yes, perhaps. This isn’t how I envisioned my evening.”_

_“I just thought… You always cook for me. I thought it would be nice if you didn’t have to, if you could just sit down and be served.”_

_James was glad he was standing before the sink so any flicker of his expression might go unnoticed. “I like takeaway.”_

_“I’ll remember that for next time,” Connor said, sounding a bit happier._

_“Yes, do.”_

_“So… there could be a next time?”_

_James scrubbed harder. “I don’t see why not, provided it doesn’t result in similar destruction of my lovely clean kitchen.”_

_“Oh. Okay, then.” The relief in Connor’s voice was unmistakable._

_Ah. He got it now. James shut off the water and dried his hands, turning around. “Did you think I would make you leave?”_

_Connor scuffed his toe on the floor. “Maybe.”_

_“I’m not quite that much of an ogre, I should think.”_

_“It’s not that, it’s just… Well, mostly people ask me to leave. Or they leave me first.”_

_Well, this had escalated quickly. “Why do you think you’re here, Connor?”_

_Connor’s brown eyes were really unusually large. “I don’t know. Because you felt sorry for me, I suppose.”_

_“Pity isn’t an emotion I am capable of.”_

_“What emotions are you capable of?” Connor actually seemed legitimately curious._

_“Blessedly few.”_

_“I think that’s crap.”_

_James folded his arms across his chest. “You do, do you?”_

_“Yeah,” Connor said, meeting James’ gaze stubbornly. “I think you care a lot more than you want people to think.”_

_“I don’t pay you to think about me.”_

_“You don’t pay me to do a lot of things, but I do them anyway.”_

_“Like wreck my flat?”_

_Connor winced. “I said I was sorry, and you said you weren’t mad.”_

_“I’m allowed to change my mind.”_

_“Are you going to change your mind about me staying, too?”_

_Connor looked so dejected that James felt suddenly guilty. “No, Connor. Not about that.”_

_Damn. He really did care too bloody much._

-

They were cheerful the morning of the third expedition into the future anomaly. James would remember that, later.

“Third time’s the charm, isn’t that how it goes?” Sarah said, accepting the gun Becker gave her. It looked strange in her hand, too large, but she checked the chamber as efficiently as anyone.

“Something about a woman’s touch, too, I think,” Becker said, and he was smiling. It was the first time James had seen him smile since before the others had gone.

Sarah grinned. “Never send a man to do a woman’s job?”

“If you’re quite finished,” James said, and Sarah laughed. She squeezed his shoulder as she passed by.

She smelled like flowers. James would always remember that.

-

They brought Sarah’s body back wrapped in an emergency blanket.

James watched them come in from the balcony outside his office. No one was laughing.

Becker carried Sarah himself. Someone told James later that he had nearly died recovering her body and wouldn’t let anyone else touch her.

There was another body, too. A young private. Dunphy. James remembered his teeth had been crooked; it had always shown when he laughed.

He’d laughed a lot.

James watched them and then he turned away, retreating into the privacy of his office. If it could even be called that - an office with glass walls offered little by way of true privacy. He could feel Lorraine’s eyes on him as he went through the door but she let him be. She always seemed to have a sixth sense about what James needed and when.

What James needed now… Well. What he really needed was for Sarah to be alive, for Sarah not to be still and cold and wrapped in an emergency blanket. What he really needed was for his team to be there, for his team to not be lost somewhere in time.

What he really needed was Connor. Connor laughing at him and telling him he should stop working so hard, Connor convincing him to go home with a smile and a touch and a few words.

But he couldn’t have any of that.

All he could do was sit in the silence of his office, staring at the surface of his desk. He would need to file paperwork for Sarah, to make her death official.

The very thought of it made him feel ill.

James called Lorraine into his office.

“Sir?” she said, her face calm and still. Lorraine could put on a mask of professionalism to match the best of them.

“Would you visit the medical bay, please? I’d like to ensure… everyone is getting taken care of properly.” He meant Becker.

Lorraine didn’t need to be told that. “Of course, sir.”

After she had left, James sat quietly at his desk and didn’t think about how Sarah had been laughing that morning, or about how she had smelled like flowers.

- __

_“You smell like a sewer,” James said, wrinkling his nose._

_Connor looked dejectedly down at himself. “I feel worse.”_

_“Yes, well, you can be certain that you won’t be setting foot in my car, let alone my flat, whilst you are in this state.”_

_“But--”_

_James silenced him with a look. “The ARC is in possession of excellent shower facilities. I should know; I was the one who fought over the construction budget. I’ll wait.”_

_Appearing far too grateful for the simple matter of still having a ride home, Connor ran off._

_“Be quick about it!” James called after him. No need to be too kind, after all. He had a reputation to maintain._

_When Connor returned, he was wearing what looked like a spare combat uniform that was slightly too large. It was probably Becker’s. His hair was damp and starting to curl at the ends. “Quick enough for you?” he asked, bouncing a little in the doorway._

_An image sprang to life in James’ mind, unbidden. Connor under the shower, the water dripping down over all that pale skin, the contrast of his dark hair. James wondered what Connor’s skin would feel like under his hands and how he would sound if -_

_“Are you okay?” Connor asked, and James realised he had been staring._

_“Go and wait in the atrium,” James said, attempting to cover up how suddenly flustered he felt. “I won’t be rushed.”_

_“Fine,” Connor grumbled, turning away. “_ You _were the one who said to hurry up, though, just doing what I was told, might even have expected a thank you.”_

_James rested his forehead against his hand and took a breath. He wasn’t thinking about Connor. He wasn’t._

-

James hovered in the doorway to the locker room.

Becker was still dressed in his uniform, the dark colour hiding the evidence of what he had been through. Hiding Sarah’s blood soaked through his shirt. He was sitting on one of the benches, his head in his hands. There was white bandaging around one of his arms and his uniform was torn. He looked utterly defeated.

For a moment, James hesitated. He thought about going in. He thought about saying something to Becker, saying something to try to alleviate the guilt Becker was no doubt wracked with. He thought about how in times of need, people were supposed to give and accept comfort from each other.

James knew what his strengths were, and he knew his weaknesses. He had never been good at either giving or accepting comfort.

Even if he had known what to do, he didn’t think Becker would have accepted it. Not from him.

James turned around and left.

- __

_James was sitting with his laptop when Connor came through the living room, dressed to go out. “Where are you going?”_

_“You aren’t my keeper,” Connor said, sounding like the petulant teenager he no longer was. “I can do what I want. I don’t need permission.”_

_“Well, that’s what I get for trying to be nice. Carry on, then.”_

_“What?”_

_“Oh, no, don’t let me keep you.” James waved Connor away._

_“Now you’re being childish,” Connor said, the irony apparently lost on him. “What did you mean?”_

_“I only asked because I thought perhaps you might need a lift somewhere. Thought I’d save you from the perils of public transport.”_

_“Oh.” Connor looked somewhat abashed. “Thanks. That’s nice of you.”_

_“Never mind,” James said, uncomfortable. “Would you like me to take you somewhere or not?”_

_“What? Oh, no. Um… No. I-- I’ll get there myself.” Connor shifted in place, his eyes darting around nervously._

_“Connor, where are you going? Should I be concerned for your safety?”_

_“No! I’m not… I’m not buying drugs or anything, or whatever you’re thinking.”_

_“I can assure you, I was not thinking that. However, I would appreciate the reassurance that I won’t need to be filing a missing persons report when you disappear.”_

_“I’m not going anywhere dangerous.”_

_A notion popped into James’ head. “Forgive the indelicacy, but have you got yourself a girlfriend? Trying to keep it under wraps?” Or keep it from Abby, perhaps?_

_Connor’s eyes widened comically. “No! Why would you think that? Bloody hell, I’m going to the cemetery, all right?”_

_Silence fell. James felt the unaccustomed sensation of having no idea what to say._

_“I go there sometimes, okay? To… to talk to them.” Connor sat down on the sofa, shoulders hunching forward. “I know it’s stupid. I just thought… Professor Cutter asked me to research the artefact, and I have no idea what I’m doing, and I thought… I thought maybe I’d talk to him, like we used to, and it would help me think. And I thought… I thought maybe Stephen…” He trailed off, looking utterly wretched._

_James put his hand awkwardly on Connor’s shoulder. “It isn’t stupid at all. Don’t ever… You have nothing to be ashamed of.”_

_Connor seemed to lean into the touch of James’ hand. “Okay.”_

_After a moment, James rose to his feet. “Come on, then. I’d quite like to have a few choice words with Cutter myself. Namely, how terribly thoughtless it was of him to leave me saddled with Quinn.”_

_Connor smiled. It was small and tentative, but it was there nonetheless._

-

The day after Sarah died, Becker was pale and hollow-eyed, with bruising on his face and a cut above his left eye. He stood in James’ office and made his report, terse and impersonal. The tight set of his jaw and the way he sometimes had to pause were the only indications that he was struggling.

James had to admire him. He knew that Becker was fighting to stay in control, but he only knew that because he knew Becker.

Becker was a professional, through and through. He was far stronger than James would ever have given that baby-faced soldier who had walked through the door all those months ago credit for.

“Permission to go, sir, if that’s all,” Becker said, tone flat and even.

“Yes, that will be all, Captain.” James waved a hand. “Dismissed.” He watched Becker leave, his gait stiff.

It seemed like protocol and procedure was all Becker had to hold himself together. He wondered how long that would work.

James wished that he had something like that to cling to.

- __

 _“I’ll pay for it,” Connor blurted out, his eyes glued to the shredded dinner jacket in James’ hands. “Wasn’t that what we agreed? Take it out of my paycheque. I’ll pay for_ two _of them.”_

_“You don’t earn enough for that.”_

_Connor bit his lip. “I’m sorry, all right? I’m really, really sorry. I should have been watching Nancy more closely. I’ll do whatever you want to make up for it, I swear.”_

_The anger seemed to ebb away from him. James sighed. “That’s all right, Connor. It wasn’t your fault.”_

_“It was, though. Nancy’s only here because of me.”_

_“You can’t be held responsible for every single action of another living being.”_

_“I’m still sorry, though.”_

_James went into his bedroom and shut the door before he did something silly like reach out and touch Connor to comfort him. It was mostly Connor’s fault, after all. Now he was going to have to find an entirely new suit to wear._

_When he walked back into the hall to leave, Connor was waiting for him._

_“If you want, I can--”_

_James held up his hand. “Your ceaseless apologies are wearying. Please stop. I’m going to be late as it is and this suit isn’t nearly as nice as the one Nancy enjoyed so much.”_

_Connor still managed to look like a kicked puppy, even when he wasn’t being punished. “I’d say sorry again but I guess that won’t help.”_

_“No.” James attempted to move past him._

_“You do look good, though,” Connor said, rather shyly. “Really good.”_

_“Of course I do,” James said, and walked out, ignoring the pleased fluttering in his chest Connor’s words produced._

-

When James left the ARC that evening, he considered driving to a pub. Some little hole in the wall place, perhaps, somewhere no one would know him, where he could drink away his sorrows. It almost sounded appealing.

Instead, he went home to his empty flat. Well, his empty flat aside from Connor’s diictodons. They were still waiting for Connor, clearly.

“He isn’t coming home,” James told them. He wondered if that piece of news was as distressing to them as it was to him.

Then he realised he was projecting human emotion onto a pair of prehistoric animals and felt ridiculous.

He undressed in his bedroom but found himself changing into a pair of jeans and a soft grey shirt instead of just his pyjamas. He didn’t want to be here. He couldn’t bear the thought of another night alone.

He thought about Becker and his dead eyes. He wondered if Becker would be out getting pissed and making bad life choices in the name of guilt and regret and punishment. He felt suddenly worried.

James put on his shoes, grabbed his keys, and was out of his flat before he fully knew what he was doing.

It was a short enough trip to Becker’s flat that James was already standing outside the door before he started to come to his senses. What the sodding hell was he doing? He wasn’t Becker’s friend. He had no right to bother him at home, to check up on him like he had a right to know.

Then again, he was Becker’s boss. Surely that counted for something?

The door opened before James could talk himself out of leaving.

Becker didn’t even look surprised to see him, though he did appear somewhat taken aback by James’ choice of wardrobe. “Were you going to knock?”

“I was getting to it.”

Becker’s flat was clean and minimal, almost impersonal. There was nothing but a few framed photographs and some artwork on the walls to reveal the tiniest indication of who lived there. No knick-knacks to gather dust and any books or DVDs Becker might have owned were put away, neatly out of sight. There was a widescreen television, though, which Connor would have been very impressed by.

“Why are you here?” Becker asked. Though he had invited James in, his attitude was anything but inviting.

“Honestly? I have no idea,” James admitted. “I just thought…”

“You thought I might be doing something stupid?”

“Yes. Perhaps. But I…” James hesitated.

Becker didn’t say anything, but the weight of his gaze was prompt enough.

“I suppose I didn’t want to be by myself,” James confessed.

Becker’s gaze immediately felt less hostile, his eyes shining with something like understanding. “Would you like a drink?” he offered.

“Please.”

Gesturing James to have a seat, Becker disappeared into the kitchen. He returned with a bottle of whisky and two glasses.

James had seated himself on the sofa and Becker proceeded to follow suit, ignoring the nearby chairs. James supposed it would keep them both within reach of the whisky.

Which seemed to be a wise decision, considering how quickly Becker was consuming his.

“I know you don’t have to drive home, Becker, but really. I expect you’re not even tasting it.”

“Not drinking it to taste it,” Becker said morosely and refilled his glass.

James reached out to stay Becker’s hand, his fingers resting on the outside of Becker’s wrist.

Becker stared at him.

James pulled his hand back. He raised his glass to his lips, trying not to let his hand shake.

He had barely set his glass back down before Becker was on him, his weight pushing James back against the cushions and his mouth hot and wet and demanding. For a few moments James was too startled to do anything but put his hand to Becker’s chest, but then he shoved back.

Becker was looking at him with wide eyes, his breath faintly gasping. His lips were glistening a little, wet from James’ saliva.

The thought made James flush.

He gazed back at Becker and then ran a hand through his hair. It shook. He folded his hands together in his lap. “Becker, I... I can’t--”

“Please,” Becker said, not even attempting to present the illusion that he wasn’t begging. “No one understands but you.”

“I’m not sure I do understand. I don’t know what you want.”

Becker’s laugh was harsh and sharp. “I would think that’s obvious.”

“No, it isn’t.” James wanted to stand up, to put some breathing room between them, but Becker was still hovering in his space, intent and smelling of whisky and those bad life choices James had been worried he would make.

He didn’t know what Becker wanted. Becker knew about Connor, knew even though James had never said a word. He had seemed to respect James’ feelings. James didn’t know what this was.

He licked his lips and swallowed. “Connor…”

“He isn’t here,” Becker said, sounding wrecked. “None of them are. Sarah’s dead and I killed her and I lost your lover, Lester. I _lost_ him. I lost all of them, Connor and Abby and… and Danny…”

Yes, and Danny. James wondered if Danny was the most important of all. He wondered if Becker and Danny’s games had been more than games, or if Becker had simply wanted them to be. He didn’t ask. “What do you want from me?”

“I need you to tell me what to do.”

James held Becker’s eyes. He thought about Connor. He didn’t know what he was doing. How could he help Becker when he didn’t know what he was doing?

“Go in the bedroom and wait for me,” he said.

Becker’s intake of breath and the quick release of it were audible. He nodded. “Yes.” With a smooth movement he was off the sofa and exiting the room, heading down the hallway.

James watched him go and then picked up his whisky. He drained it.

He believed Connor would come back. He had to believe that. The alternative was... There was no alternative.

But this was how things were now. Connor was gone and everything had gone to shit and Becker needed him. Sad, desperate, lonely Becker who needed him. Maybe James could do this, could get this right in the way he hadn’t been able to for Connor, for Abby and Danny, for Sarah. For all the others he had failed.

And maybe James needed Becker just as much. To forget, if only for an instant, a moment, a moment where he didn’t feel as though the world had tilted on its axis, leaving him scrabbling for purchase. A moment to feel something that wasn’t loneliness or pain or anger or guilt.

A moment. That’s all. Was that really so terrible? Was it wrong to need things?

James went into Becker’s bedroom and told himself this wasn’t a betrayal. This was survival.

Becker was sitting on the edge of the bed, back ramrod straight, waiting just like James had said.

“Take off your clothes,” James said, barking it like an order, and Becker hurried to comply. There was the unmistakable look of gratitude in his eyes.

When Becker had stripped down and sat back onto the bed, James moved forward slowly, stepping between Becker’s legs. He ran his hand over the side of Becker’s face, gentler than he had meant to, but Becker closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

It was easier, then. There was a rhythm in it, in the act of giving and taking, even if the partners were different. It was taking, mostly, because that’s what Becker seemed to need - to be pushed, to be told, to be used. He came with a sob and James kissed his skin, tasting the salt of his sweat.

When they had finished, James quietly got up to put his clothes back on, thinking he would let himself out. He didn’t like the way it made him feel like Becker’s cheap, embarrassing one-night stand, creeping out like he was someone to be ashamed of, but it was better not to make a fuss. James had had no illusions as to what this was.

But Becker grabbed his hand, his dark eyes needy and pleading. “There’s no need for you to leave. Stay for breakfast.”

So James lay back down, listening to Becker’s breathing even out.

In the morning, he wished he had left. The crushing disappointment of waking to a warm body next to him and realising it wasn’t Connor, realising it wasn’t Connor’s dark hair on the pillow, was nearly too much to bear.

Becker’s face when James met his eyes was almost worse. The depth of understanding James could see there, the compassion born of a sort of shared misery, was painful to witness.

James looked away and Becker slid out of bed.

“I’ll make you some coffee, and whatever you want to eat,” Becker said, grabbing underwear from a drawer.

“Thank you,” James said, and wondered if Becker was wishing he was someone else, too.

- __

_Connor was sitting in the dark in the flat when James came home._

_James flipped the light switch. “What on earth are you doing?”_

_Not looking at him, Connor said, “Suppose the time got away from me. I didn’t realise it was so late.”_

_Stepping closer to the sofa, James said, “That doesn’t answer my question. What are you doing sitting here in the dark?”_

_“Just thinking.”_

_“Thinking.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Connor, are you all right?” James asked, concerned. He had thought Connor was getting better, coping better with his losses. Lately his smiles had seemed more real and his cheer more genuine._

_Connor’s gaze slid to James’ face. “What do you care?”_

_“I thought you were the one insisting I do care.”_

_“Right.” Connor’s eyes settled back onto the wall._

_James sat down on the sofa next to him. “Connor, what’s the matter?” He wasn’t good at this. He didn’t know how to make people trust him, how to get them to open up. He didn’t even know what he would do if Connor actually did speak to him. He wished he could leave without feeling like a horrible person._

_“Nothing. I already said.”_

_“I’m not an idiot. Please don’t act as if I were.”_

_“It’s nothing to bother you with!” Connor said, raising his voice and turning to face James again._

_“I believe I’ve asked to be bothered with it.”_

_Connor pushed his hands through his hair. “Bloody hell. You really are stubborn.”_

_“A necessary character trait when one works at the ARC, it would seem,” James said dryly._

_Connor didn’t laugh. “I can’t talk to you about this.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Because it’s about you!”_

_James blinked. “Then it would seem that I would be the perfect person to talk to, wouldn’t it?”_

_“No,” Connor said, putting his fingers to his temples and shaking his head. “No, it really, really wouldn’t.”_

_Feeling daring, James touched his fingertips to Connor’s knee. “Connor--”_

_Interrupting him, Connor raised his eyes back to James’ face. He looked desperate. “Do you think you could-- Maybe if I tried, if I tried really hard?”_

_Something felt like it was breaking inside of James, as he looked into Connor’s eyes and listened to the distress in his voice. “Could I what?”_

_“Love me,” Connor said, his voice breaking._

_Stunned, James simply sat there. He didn’t know what to think. How had this happened? Could Connor actually - And what did it mean, if he did?_

_“I know I’m not the type of person you would ever want,” Connor said, starting to babble. “I’m generally not the type of person anyone would want, actually, to be honest. If you want to kick me out, you can, I wouldn’t be surprised. Or will you sack me? I suppose I’d deserve it, but I can try, I can try to be better, even if you won’t ever--”_

_James kissed him, the flow of Connor’s words ending in a rush of breath as their mouths met. Connor made a little squeaky noise, his hands clawing at James’ shoulders._

_This was stupid, it was probably the worst idea James had ever had, but he couldn’t stop. Not when Connor_ wanted _him, like James was the only thing he would ever want in his whole life. “You don’t have to try to be anything,” James said, pressing tiny kisses to Connor’s lips. Damn it. He was getting sentimental._

_Connor was pressing closer, his arms winding around James. Apparently a good snog was all it took to keep him quiet. Perhaps James should have tried this ages ago._

_“Connor,” James said, kissing his mouth and his cheek and his jaw and his neck. “Connor, you can ask me to stop.”_

_“Don’t want you to,” Connor said, letting James push him against the cushions._

_James tried closing his eyes so he wouldn’t see Connor stretched out beneath him, so maybe he would start thinking rationally again._

_It didn’t work._

_“If we don’t stop, I’ll… God, Connor.” James slid his hand up beneath Connor’s shirt to feel his skin. “I want to take off your clothes.”_

_“That…” Connor bit his lip, groaning low. “That sounds really good to me.”_

_“Bugger,” James breathed, and pulled Connor up off the sofa. He led Connor insistently through the flat, to his bedroom, and opened the door. He backed Connor up against the doorframe and kissed him again._

_Connor dragged his fingers through James’ hair. “I thought I wasn’t allowed in your bedroom?”_

_“Persist in back-talking and that will remain true.”_

_Connor’s resulting smile was wide and bright and entirely genuine._

_At that moment, James knew he was lost._

-

Becker placed a single piece of paper on James’ desk, leaving it there without a word.

It looked disturbingly like a notice of resignation but that couldn’t be right because Becker wasn’t a quitter, nor was he a coward. “What is this?”

“It’s my resignation.”

“Your what?”

“My resignation,” Becker said in that clipped tone of his, the words perfectly enunciated.

“I won’t accept this.”

“You can’t force me to stay.”

“No, I can’t,” James said, and felt stupid. He had been stupid to think he could help Becker, to think that one night would be enough to make a difference. He had been stupid to think that anything he did would make a difference. He wasn’t good at this, he didn’t - If he couldn’t even help himself, how could he help Becker? “I suppose that I hoped you would want to stay.”

“Why?” Becker asked, his control beginning to bleed away. “Why should I, and why would you even want me to? I failed!”

“You _tried--_ ”

“And a fucking lot of good it did! Sarah is _dead,_ Lester. They’re out there somewhere and instead of finding them, I got her killed. I had one purpose here, and that was to keep the civilian team safe. Every single one of them is missing or dead, aside from Jenny, who merely _almost_ died and then very smartly quit. You should have shipped me back to Hereford when Cutter died.”

“What about the lives you did save? Does that mean nothing to you?”

“Stop it,” Becker said, sounding desperate. He pressed his knuckles against the top of the desk. “Stop trying to-- Why can’t you just be angry at me? Why can’t you just let me go? _I lost Connor!_ ”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” James said, raising his voice. “Do you think there is a single second when I don’t think about that? Connor is _gone,_ and I may never see him again.” He raised a hand to his face, trying to calm himself. He shouldn’t have said that. He was only going to make it worse. He didn’t blame Becker, he didn’t. If he blamed anyone, it was himself.

“Then let me go, James. Please.”

The use of James’ given name startled him. Becker had never called him that before.

“Please,” Becker said again, and James could hardly look at him.

He couldn’t make Becker stay, that much was true. He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t go back and fix his mistakes, he couldn’t save Tom Ryan or Stephen Hart or any of them. He couldn’t bring Connor home.

But he didn’t know how he could do this on his own, without Becker. He couldn’t lose anyone else.

“You can’t just _resign,_ ” he said.“You’re a commissioned officer.”

“I’m not quitting the Regiment. I’ve simply worked something else out. Six month combat tour in Afghanistan. Got a quick turnaround on it, too-- finally got some use out of the bloody family name.” Becker chuckled without humour. “They’re happy for volunteers, really.”

“What good do you think that will do? Do you think covering yourself in blood and death and misery will make you forget? Do you think it will absolve you of your guilt? Running off to try to get yourself killed won’t bring anyone back.”

Becker’s tiny quirk of a smile was bitter. “Oh, I won’t be trying. But if it happens? Well, they say karma’s a bitch.”

He turned around and left.

James breathed in and tried to see a way forward. If the entire bloody staff quit on him, if he was the only one left standing, by God, he would find a way forward.

“The Minister on line one, sir,” said Lorraine.

-

It turned out there was no way forward, not for the ARC.

- __

_It was still dark. The sun had yet to rise and there were several hours before James needed to be awake._

_That being said, he didn’t know why he was up. He rolled onto his side and was confronted with Connor’s sleeping face. Sleeping. Like James should be._

_James reached his hand out and stroked his fingers down the smooth skin of Connor’s cheek and over the rough stubble on his jaw. Connor was beautiful, and James figured that now, in the darkness before dawn, it was all right to think so._

_Connor made a huffing noise in his sleep but otherwise didn’t stir._

_It still felt sometimes like this had all been a dream, like it wasn’t real. His life with Connor seemed like something James didn’t deserve, something he hadn’t earned._

_But he fell asleep most nights with Connor in his arms and awoke most mornings with Connor beside him. He was happy. That was new._

_If he didn’t deserve this, well, that didn’t mean he was ever, ever going to give it up._

-

One year later, James stood in the new ARC and watched Connor and Abby walk through the doors. He was tempted to pinch himself, just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

But he couldn’t be dreaming. If he had been, Danny would have been there, too.

Still, he stood there and watched, watched Connor, scruffy and dirty and utterly beautiful. He moved forward to greet them and caught Becker’s eye.

Becker gave him a small nod, the corners of his mouth barely lifting into a smile. __

 _I’ll bring him home for you, sir,_ Becker had said, so many months ago.

And he had.

James took one more step and gave Connor the welcome home he had been dreaming of for so long. ** __**

**_End_ **


End file.
